Show Me
by Malty
Summary: Marco loves life now the war is over, he just wishes Jake did too. Focus on Marco as he fears for his friend.


_**Show me a man who's truly content while his friend suffers and I will you show you a fraud.**_

* * *

My name is Marco, and if there's one thing I was born to do it's entertain.

Ever since I was little I've been able to charm my way out of trouble; my ability to improvise has saved me, (and Earth), from life-and-death situations, I can talk rings around anyone you care to name, and God has blessed me with a grin that turns girls weak at the knees.

Okay that last part wasn't always true, but nowadays I'm not exaggerating when I say that I, Marco, am revered to-and-above boy band levels. Girls line the street and chant my name, they blush when I look in their direction, and they swoon when I talk. Which is probably the reason I'm currently led in bed nursing a vague memory of picking up the mic last night with the intention of serenading the room with, 'Lady in Red'. I don't remember much after that, but the recurring image of a rapidly thinning crowd tells me that I shouldn't give up my day job just yet.

Not that I need the money.

Not that I have a day job.

My clock reads 11:12 am. That seems as good a time as any to get up. I sit up, regret it, and very quickly lie back down as I wait for the dizzy feeling to subside and the rest of my memory to return.

_Let's see.. I'm still wearing a suit, I remember singing, a crowd.. Must've been a party. There's always a party. Everyone wants you on the guest-list when you've saved the world.._

I attempt to sit up again and get rewarded with a dull-pounding in my skull.

_Yup, definitely a party._

One of the many upsides of being an Animorph is the frequency with which you are presented with the words, 'free bar'. One of the downsides is the significantly smaller frequency with which you are presented with the words, 'Sir, perhaps you've had enough.' No one wants to be the one to tell an Animorph he can't do what he likes. After all, we saved the world. Did I mention that?

* * *

Ordinarily I know how to handle myself at these parties. As the 'face' of the Animorphs I'm used to smiling at the right times, talking to the right people, telling the right jokes.. Well,_ I_ think they're right. Of course nowadays everyone laughs at my jokes. And that's fine, I don't mind that it falls to me, Hell it's what I was born to do. I grin and joke and laugh and pose and I'm damn good at it. More than that, I _enjoy_ it. Finally, after years of fighting, of hiding and killing, bleeding and crying, and all the while putting on a brave face, after all of that we're free. We're recognised. I thrive on that. For the most part I'm happy.

Of course those years don't just go away because life is sweeter now. Part of me is stuck in those years and I doubt it's ever coming back. _That_ part is the one that even now finds me screaming at night. The one that shudders whenever I talk openly about the war, because it thinks I'm still hiding and if I'm caught talking about the Yeerks it won't be pretty. It's the same part that found me alone in my bedroom yesterday staring listlessly at nothing, it's the same part that drove me to that party, and it's the same part that led me to the bar. I can deal with the screaming. I can even deal with the silence, but if I catch myself staring I need to find company. I need to laugh and have a drink, and serenade a faceless crowd with, 'Lady in Red', or whatever song comes to mind, because if I catch myself staring it's too close to what I can't deal with. It's too far down that path.

I hardly ever have to deal with it anymore.

But whenever I try, he's always staring.

* * *

I talk to him sometimes, always on the phone if he can help it. His voice at least is still his own. For a while he didn't mind seeing me face-to-face. After the initial furore died down he even invited me over to his place once or twice, but I may as well have stayed on the phone. I mean, I'm not easy to ignore, but it was like no matter how close I stood he couldn't quite get me in focus. He heard me, but he was listening underwater. Sure I've always been the clown of our friendship, I regale him with tales of my adventures and he raises an eyebrow when I embellish the details, I get indignant when he dares to question me and he can't suppress a smile. He still smiles; I guess that's something. But it's been years since it reached his eyes.

I get the feeling he invited me over as a distraction, and I'm happy to deliver, but it's hard to distract someone who's already distracted. I would find myself halfway through a story about some gorgeous babe and realise his eyes had glazed over. Not unusual I'll grant you, but just one more sign he wasn't quite in the room. Like I could leave and it would be a few minutes before he noticed.

It scares me when he does that. It didn't used to; I just figured he was having a hard time dealing. He always looked like he hadn't slept enough, who had? Straight from a three-year war to worldwide fame, God knows I felt like I could sleep for a year. It wasn't until I began to watch him that I realised just how far gone he was. I would see him sat in his bedroom late at night, just staring at nothing, and he wore the exact same look on his face when I would catch him staring through me. When I came over he knew I was there, he wasn't crazy, but he barely registered other people's presence any more. It was as if you'd always just woken him up, and he just needed a few more minutes before he could fully realise where and when he was.

I worry that he's never going to wake up again.

That's _why_ I can't deal with staring. I'm not worried that I'm going to end up catatonic like Jake, I've got my traumas but I'm happy in life. I know where I stand, and it's on top of the world with a grin on my face and a drink in my hand.

Really.

….

I roll over and out of bed, check my PDA, and find a party to attend tonight.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for reading, please R&R if you're so inclined. Hope you got something out of it!


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